Wade's Dream
by AnnieM
Summary: One way to rid our heroes of the Fox-imposed Maggie-menace.


Written & posted to ATS Creative: April 1997  
SPOILERS: None that I can see. :-)  
  
DISCLAIMER: I, unfortunately, did not create any of these characters. I am merely borrowing them from their rightful owners at St Claire Entertainment and Universal Studios.   
  
No Sliders were harmed in the writing of this story. ;-)  
  
DEDICATION: To the memory of the Season One Sliders...  
  
AnnieM (Achtung-Baby@juno.com)  
*****************************************************  
Maggie: "You seem a little...edgy."  
Wade: "The only thing making me 'edgy' is YOU."  
*****************************************************  
  
  
"Wade's Dream" (01/01) by AnnieM  
  
  
"She looks so peaceful, Q-Ball; it's a shame we have to do this."  
  
"I know, Remmy, I know, but -" Quinn shrugged his shoulders slightly,  
giving his friend a "well, we don't have much choice"-type look.  
  
Quinn knelt down beside the sleeping Wade's bed; she lay on her side,  
facing him, hands tucked underneath her pillow. A stray lock of hair had tumbled down across one of her eyes. Almost hesitantly, Quinn reached up and gently brushed the wayward strands back up off of Wade's forehead.  
  
She stirred. "Mmm...?" She queried, with a slight roll of the head.  
  
"Hey, sleepyhead..." Quinn began in a quiet voice, "...time to get up."  
  
Wade's eyelids fluttered. "Hmm...wha...Quinn?" was her groggy response.   
As she opened her eyes, she could make out the smiling face of Quinn  
before her. Her arms felt leaden as she slipped them from underneath the pillow, returning Quinn's expression with a sleepily lopsided version of her own. ::"It's been so long since I've seen him smile...":: she thought to herself.  
  
Rembrandt moved to sit at the foot of the bed. "How ya feelin',  
sweetheart?"  
  
"Remmy...*yaaawwwn*...oh, sorry..." She gave Rembrandt a sheepish grin, and covered her mouth, blushing slightly. Wade sat up and stretched out her arms up to their full length, assessing her situation; her body felt sluggish. She reached up, rubbing the back of her stiffened neck. "...I feel like somebody hurled a big bag of rocks at me...other than that, I feel fine - ow!" She winced as her fingers pressed a little too hard against a nerve.  
  
Quinn gently removed Wade's hand from her neck and gestured for her to  
scoot sideways. "Here, let me," he said, sitting down next to her.  
Gripping her shoulders, he began to massage them; Wade closed her eyes,  
and slowly rotated her head as the muscles in her neck began to uncoil.   
"Mmm...how much longer until we slide?"  
  
Rembrandt pulled the Timer from his jacket pocket. "Almost two  
hours...should be enough time for you to loosen up and find your sliding legs again," he said with a slight chuckle. "Do you even remember what happened?"  
  
"I remember a restaurant...not much else - ow!" She flinched a bit as  
Quinn's hand found the same nerve she'd irritated before.  
  
Quinn winced. "Oops - sorry. Uh, all you remember is the restaurant? Can you remember what you ate?"  
  
Wade screwed up her face a bit, trying to piece together a hazy memory.   
"Wait a minute..." she raised a hand, snapping her fingers.  
"Mushrooms...it was something with mushrooms, wasn't it? I remember it  
was pretty good...some kind of casserole, or something?"  
  
Quinn & Rembrandt smirked at each other. " 'or something'. Girl, you got *that* right, no doubt about it."  
  
Quinn chuckled at Wade's puzzled expression. She snapped around to face the two of them. "What's so funny?" she asked, sounding a wee bit  
indignant.  
  
Quinn looked over at Rembrandt; "Should you tell her, or should I?"   
Rembrandt responded with a sweep of his hand, indicating Quinn should  
continue.  
  
Quinn slipped an arm around Wade's shoulders. "Well, Wade, it seems that on this world, the preferred mushroom for cooking would do Timothy Leary proud."  
  
Wade's jaw dropped. "Oh, no *way*...you mean to tell me I ate some kind of psychedelic quiche?" She couldn't believe it.  
  
Rembrandt nodded. "That's right, sweetheart...none of us had any idea  
you'd ordered the Deadhead Special until you passed out cold with this  
look of sheer bliss on your face."  
  
"Thank God there was a doctor there," interjected Quinn; "We didn't know *what* was the matter. He took one look at you and what you'd eaten, told us you'd be fine, and instructed us to 'Put her to bed, and let her sleep it off.' , which we did. The only reason we got you up was to give you some time to clear your head before the slide."  
  
Wade was still taking it all in. She looked down to see herself still in the clothes she'd remembered wearing to the restaurant. ::"Eeech, I need a shower,":: Wade thought to herself. She rubbed at her eyes and temples. "How long was I out?" she asked, as she crawled out of the bed on wobbly legs.  
  
Rembrandt reached out an arm to steady her. "Easy, sweetheart...there you go. You were out for over 24 hours." Wade's eyebrows shot up at this statement; she glanced over at Quinn, who nodded in agreement.  
  
Wade wagged her head in astonishment. "No wonder my whole body is so  
stiff." She gently shook her arms and legs as she walked around the room, hoping to increase the circulation in her slightly uncooperative limbs. "Oh, were's *Maggie*, by the way? She probably knows some kind of 'Marine exercise' I should be doing for this." Wade rolled her eyes at the thought, and made a slight 'yuk' face. She turned to Quinn & Remmy, expecting to see a 'tsk-tsk' look on Quinn's face, at least; but what she found staring back at her were two puzzled expressions.  
  
Rembrandt looked over at Quinn, who shrugged and shook his head in  
response, and then back to Wade. "Maggie who?"  
  
"What do you mean, 'Maggie who?' Maggie Beckett! What, did you guys  
have the mushrooms, too?"  
  
Quinn took Wade's arm, and led her back over to the bed. "No, we didn't; and we don't know who this Maggie-person is, either...you know, you might be experiencing some after-effects of those happy-shrooms...you probably should sit back down now; we don't want to overdo it." He propped up Wade's feet, and kissed her on the forehead. Wade smiled up at him with a pixie grin, nodding in acquiescence.  
  
She leaned back against the padded headboard and had barely closed her  
eyes, when a familiar sound came to Wade's ears...an aria. Her eyes  
snapped open. She froze.  
  
Quinn noticed Wade's stock-still expression. "Wade...what's wrong?"  
  
She didn't know what opera it was from. But it was definitely an aria. She bolted off the bed in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
Rembrandt tried to stop her. "Wade! You can't go in there yet! The -"  
  
Wade grabbed the knob, and threw open the door. The singing grew louder. ::"No...it can't be,":: she thought to herself; ::"It *couldn't* have all been a dream...could it?":: She saw a somewhat portly shape silhouetted against the shower curtain, and she had her answer.   
  
Wade beamed.  
  
"Professor!"  
  
"What the devil..." It was a rather startled Maximillian Arturo who poked his shower-capped head around the curtain. Made even moreso for seeing his three friends staring back at him. Quinn spread his hands out, shaking his head, as if to say, 'we tried to stop her.' Remmy looked embarassed; Wade just stood there, still beaming.  
  
"Miss Welles!" exclaimed Arturo, "While it is indeed a delight to have  
you back again among the living, will the three of you please grant me  
whatever dignity I have left, and GET OUT OF HERE?!"  
  
Wade smiled. "Of course, Professor. It's nice to have you back again,  
too."  
  
She turned and slipped out of the bathroom between Quinn & Rembrandt. She wanted to wipe away her forming tears before they were noticed by the others. She didn't really feel like explaining.  
  
She'd been through enough.  
  
  
~End  
  
Thanks for reading. :-)  
AnnieM  
  
  



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